


Stay with me

by VannilaTea



Category: Eminem (Musician), Machine Gun Kelly (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Bromance, Choking, Deepweb, Explicit Language, Gen, Guns, Handcuffs, I Had To, Kidnapping, Not really a relationship, RedRoom, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, and maybe a bit of daddy issues, but kinda bromance, hero of the day, pls forgive me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-08-26 17:12:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16685725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VannilaTea/pseuds/VannilaTea
Summary: Kells is being kidnapped and his life is being threatened. Eminem is the only one who can save him. Will he?





	1. Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! It's my first work ever that ended up on the Internet lol. I hope you'll like it!

“Thanks”. 

”You've already said that. Like a three times”. 

“I know.” He smiled sadly, looking down as he flushed. “I just… I-I don't think that it is enough”. 

Em smiled. He held Kells’ hand when he saw the tears coming down his cheek. He didn't even care if it looked gay. “Hey, it's ok now. You're safe. Nothing's gonna happen to you, you hear me”? Kells raised his eyes and smiled faintly. He looked much younger now, with his hair dyed fair blonde. 

It felt strange. Yesterday Em wouldn't give a flying fuck about the guy, maybe he would be a bit satisfied if he heard about some harmless accident Kells had. But this wasn't harmless at all. 

Last hours were one of the worst in his life. When he got the message showing Kells gagged in this atrocious way, handcuffed with his hands spread like Christ's on the cross, in the back of a truck, he felt scared shitless. Now as he remembered it, he himself wanted to cry. He was glad these people were dead. Em didn't even want to think what would have happened if he hadn't made it on time. When he slammed into the room, this perv was already on Kells, who had jeans forced down to his knees, being choked with a chain when he tried to fight. God knows if this asshole would only rape him, or brutally kill him right after. He didn't want to think about it but every time he closed his eyes, he saw the video of Kelly being trapped in the basement with the temperature lower than the fridge, being beaten, choked and tortured. Em thought this view would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

***

He was home at the gym when he got a text message. It showed a person with a face swathed in a black tape, with only eyes visible. Somebody was pulling the person’s hair, making him (it was probably a man, judging by the eyes and short blonde hair) look to the camera. 

“What the fuck? Is this some kind of a BDSM porn”? Em thought. 

“Do you know who is this”? The message went on. Another photo was sent, showing the man's neck and a pacman tattoo right above the collar bone. “He's live on the deepweb, you can watch him when you click the link. Dunno how long hes gonna be alive though”.

“What the hell”? Em responded. 

“I'm telling you this because I don't want him to die. If you click the second link you can track the truck. Don't call the cops or he's dead much sooner”. 

Why would I fucking help him, the thought quickly crossed Marshall’s mind; but at the same time he felt his heart in his mouth. He clicked on the first link but was not really prepared for what he saw. The whole website called Redrum was full of disturbing images and videos. The newest one was called “Commissions”. He entered the thread and saw the first post. “I'll pay Xillers 2M if they do a stream video of this guy” and a photo of this rapper MGK. Later, there was a Xillers’ post saying “OK” and a link. He clicked the link to see a stream. The video showed Kelly in the back of a truck, his face swathed in this fucking black tape and his hands in handcuffs, spread like on a cross. He was obviously squirming, trying to disengage. Soon later, he stopped. He looked exhausted and only then did Em understand. He had his face fucking swathed. With a fucking tape. With no holes for nostrils or mouth. He obviously couldn't breathe freely. “Hold still, you dumbass”, Em said to himself, his hands already sweaty. He clicked the link with a tracker. The truck was already about 200 miles away. He had no time to lose. 

It didn't take much time for Em to get five of his best people and two Land Rovers ready. He packed the guns and after a quarter they all drove the road, following the truck with a kidnapped rapper. Em's hands were shaking much so his bodyguard was driving. He couldn't focus on anything other than the video. He started checking the Xillers’ account only to find many files of people trapped in dark rooms. One video depicted a boy in his teens being raped by a bodybuilder with a snake tattoo on his neck. The other was a woman having a surgery live, in not very sterile conditions. Em felt blood fled his veins. He didn't want to watch anything anymore. Last peek at Kelly's video to make sure he's alright and he's going to leave the website.

Kelly was slowly starting to black out. Then, Em saw a move behind the camera. Somebody walked up to Kells holding a knife. They cut the tape at mouth level to let him breathe, they didn't care to do it carefully though, since the blood drained down his chin.

“How much is the distance between us?!” Em didn't want to raise his voice but he couldn't keep his composure anymore. 

“About 220 miles, sir”. 

The rapper cursed thin-lipped. 

He saw people's comments on the video: “cut the tape or he'll suffocate before the fun even begins” and he knew they were posted online while the video was streaming. “I'll give 5K if The Mountain rapes him live”. “2k if you cut his tendons”. 

“How close are we”?! 

“Sir, 215 miles. I can't speed if we don't want to draw cops’ attention”. 

Never in his life did Em feel so panic-stricken. He didn't even understand why he was so nervous - he never liked the guy after all. He wanted to destroy him, right? At least that's what he had told the whole world. Now, all the hate he had felt towards Kelly disappeared, replaced by a literal fret over his life. He could be his son, after all.

***

He was going to drive to the studio to record something, or at least to try to do it. Writer’s block has hit him hard recently. The happier he got, the more difficult was it for him to write something that could become a hit, but at the same time was relatable and true. And yeah, Kells was exultantly happy. 

He was bending over the boot to put his favourite guitar in it, maybe the instrument could give him some inspiration. He wrote his best songs while playing this guitar. He got high while playing this guitar. It brought some good and bad memories. Actually, many bad memories and some that were not that bad. But Kells knew that pain was the best reference material for him.

When he got up to close the boot, a dull pain spread across his head. The last thing he saw were black boots and a baseball bat falling on the hard ground right beside his head. 

He woke up to the sudden lack of air, as if he was drowning. He wanted to gasp, desperately searching for air but something blocked his way, making every breath unbelievably effortful. Only when he tried to unfetter did he realize that he was handcuffed. Both his arms were spread at the opposite sides of the bench he was sitting on. He felt scared, and funky, and lost.

Somebody laughed. He started to look about, but it was too dark to actually see anything. Then, he felt a sharp pain and his head lifted as somebody pulled his hair.   
“Look”. He heard a voice. “Look to the camera”.

He did what they told him, being too confused to refuse. A light flashed before his eyes and he squinted. Somebody grabbed his shirt’s collar and pulled down, baring his neck and clavicle. Another flash. He felt wired. 

He felt a slap in his face and all the laughing voices faded. They left. 

Kells started to squirm in a desperate attempt to disengage, but to no avail. It only made him weaker and out of breath. 

“Fuck”. Feeling helpless and already dizzy, he quit any unnecessary movements and focused on his breathing as it required more effort than he first thought. 

***

“How close are we”? 

“200 miles, sir”. 

Em turned the radio on, hoping it would distract his attention from dark thoughts churning in his head.

He didn’t expect MGK’s song to appear on the rock music station. He didn’t know the song but he had to admit, Kells’ voice was quite unique and that’s why he recognized it just by his timbre. But as the music faded down the speaker said: “You were listening to “Alone” by Sleeping With Sirens in collaboration with a rapper Machine Gun Kelly. Not a long time ago the band has announced a new album coming 2019…”   
Oh, right. Now it all added up. 

*** 

He lost consciousness a few times before somebody came to him with a knife. Scared, he tightened all his muscles, but when a masked man clawed his chin with a hard grip, he couldn’t do anything but frown out of pain. He stared at the kidnapper with fear in his eyes. The man put the knife to the tape at mouth level, and cut it. Kells inhaled sharply, feeling the twinge of pain in the cut corner of his mouth. The blood flowed down his chin. The slit in the tape wasn’t very wide but it was enough for him to breathe without a constant feeling of suffocation. 

The kidnapper let go of him, but he didn’t leave. He sat on the bench opposite, crossed his arms, and stared. Kells’ eyes had already got used to the darkness, and he could see the outlines of things surrounding him. He saw a trivet and a camera, and he had a tremendous desire to kick it and break it, but it was out of his reach. 

Then, he just scowled at his abductor hatefully until the latter spoke up:

“I was thinking… Maybe I can drug you, so you won't feel a thing”.

At this moment something cracked in him, like an invisible shell that was protecting his flimsy insides from breaking, for the last few years. Tears sprang into his eyes when he thought he should start praying now. He felt as blood has already got thick in his veins at the mere mention of the word drug. To say that he was scared that he would get addicted again, would be an understatement. For the moment Kells thought that death would be better for him, and for his daughter. Drugs did mean death for him, but the slow, the most painful one, and he didn’t want her to see him like that again. He remembered every morning he woke up with this in his veins, and how he hated himself and that time. During these two years he felt more suicidal than during his entire life, and he did feel suicidal rather often in life. 

But the simple sentence had disturbed him in another aspect, too: his kidnapper wanted to drug him in a good faith of Kells not feeling a thing, which meant they were probably going to do something bad to him. Something very bad.

For the second time today, he thought death would be so much better that he actually started praying for it to be as fast as possible.

Soon, the kidnapper left and he was all by himself again. He had no idea how long he’d been kept there or where they were going, but he was sure they were on the move. He treated constant sways of the truck as a confirmation. His wrists hurt from constant friction and his muscles felt stiff from keeping his arms spread. Then, he remembered something that sparked his hope, however, only for a quick moment. He had a phone in his jeans pocket. But how was he going to reach for it when he was handcuffed? The spark of hope blew out like a faulty firework. “Maybe later”, he thought. “I won’t give up”.

“I can’t give up”.

***

The road was dragging by and Em hated the feeling of helplessness. He had a desire to jump out of the car and run but it would be obviously the most stupid thing to do as no one could run 70 miles an hour. Resigned, he decided to surf the net on his phone. He started to wonder, why was his mind so occupied with the fucker who had the cheek to say a word about his daughter, and to respond to his diss instead of keeping his mouth shut. And what was the worst, younger rapper’s diss track, he had to admit, was pretty good. 

Maybe caring about someone he would gladly kill himself just meant that he wasn't such a bad person. He hesitated, wondering whether he would do something like that for a complete stranger. Probably not. Or maybe he would. “No one really knows that”, he thought.

*** 

Kells didn’t expect that the “later” would come so fast. The man from before returned. They always wore balaclavas and all he could see was their scornful looks. This man had dark eyes and he actually looked quite blue, but he didn’t say a word. He held a plastic cup with a straw in his left hand. As he got closer to his prisoner, Kells noticed that his hands were shaking. He was nervous. 

The man placed the straw between Kells’ lips and told him to drink. The blonde had a brief moment of hesitation, but the desire to quench his thirst took over common sense.

He had only a few sips of the strangely smelling drink, but it was enough to make him feel light-headed. Soon, his head flopped on his chest. 

He blacked out.


	2. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little update for anybody who'd like to read my shit (:   
> I know I'm a painfully slow writer, imagine me writing my BA thesis (which I am actually trying to write right now) - I'm dying slowly :')

If anyone told him that instead of going to the studio, smoking his joint, playing the guitar and writing, he would end up closed in a basement, beaten, scalded and drugged, he would tell that person to stop fucking around. He couldn’t say that his worst nightmares came true when he woke up lying on the floor of a dark room, handcuffed and pinned to the wall with a long chain; basically because he had never imagined something like that could happen to him. 

The temperature in the room was low and there was nothing to seat on, so he sat up on the floor, pulled his knees and put his arms around them. Handcuffs made his moves limited. His throat was sore from breathing through his mouth for the last hour but at least they pulled the gagging so now he could breathe normally.  
He took a look around and saw cameras at the opposite side of the room. “What the fuck is going on” was the only thought on his mind right now. He stood up, wishing to kick the trivets and break the cameras, but the chain was too short and it only made him wince when a sharp metal rings of cuffs scraped his wrists. He fetched a sigh and came back to the corner of the room, where he sat down on the floor, wishing it all to be a bad dream or a stupid joke. 

***

“How far are we”? 

“We’ve just driven past Detroit a few minutes ago”. 

Em sighed, resting his head on a headrest. “Jeez”. At this point he was already bored and discouraged. He started to wonder whether it wasn’t just a stupid joke, but Kelly didn’t have his number, so how could he get to him? And why would he care? The kid was brash but he definitely didn’t care about Em so much. Both of them had their lives beside beefing and all that rap game.

“Sir, the truck stopped”. 

Em sat up.

“Where”?

“About 50 miles south-east from Cleveland”.

He tried to access the website to check what’s happening, but the link didn’t work this time. Paradoxically, it made him believe that this whole drama wasn’t a joke, unfortunately.

“What’s happened? Why can’t I access this fucking website? Where is he?” He texted to the person who sent him the pictures. 

“Im not sure if you wanna see whats going to happen. You may have nightmares for the rest of your life”. 

Em got furious.

“Don’t fuck around with me. Let me watch the fucking website. I wanna know if he’s alive.”

He sent the message but for the next ten minutes there was no response. Then, when he almost lost his hope, he heard the notification.

“Ok, fine. You may click now, it should work this time. Maybe it will help you move your ass faster. I’m not a brute, but some of my friends are.”

“It’s not like it turns me on when he groans in pain”. Em got an ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach when he read next messages. “But it does. I really don’t want him to die.”

“But I wanna hear him groan more”.

Em’s hands were shaking, but he managed to respond to the texts:

“I will kill you with my own hands as soon as I get there”.

Then, he clicked the link again. He saw Kelly in a dark room, similar to those he had seen in previous videos on the website. The blonde was sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up, his head resting on them. He was handcuffed and shivering. But that was all. He was safe, at least for now. No real dangers at the very moment. 

***

Had it been a bad dream, he would have already woken up. Had it been a stupid joke, it would have never gone so far. After a few minutes the cold took its toll and shivers went down his spine. He started to chatter his teeth unconsciously. 

And then he remembered about his phone. He quickly pulled it out from the pocket. No reception.

“Fuck”. 

He stood up and put his shaking hands up, looking for at least poor reception, one bar, anything. But nothing happened. 

Then, he heard voices behind the door. 

He hid the phone in his pocket as fast as he could – he didn’t want to lose his only connection with the world, even if now it was nonexistent. The door opened and he saw the same man, with the same knife in his left hand. He drew back automatically until he felt a cold stone wall behind his back. The man approached him slowly.

“Listen”. He said. “I don’t wanna hurt you”… He splayed out his arms to show off his good intentions.

And then, he sprang at Kells. The blonde tried to dodge the punch, but he was too slow. Pain came in a wave big enough to literally sweep him off his feet, and he fell on the ground.

“But I have to”. 

The man struck him in the face once more while keeping the knife to Kells’ throat. The latter felt the blade nudge his skin when he swallowed.  
Being extremely tall only escalated the skinny-looking effect, far from it, he was strong enough to break a couple of the man’s teeth. In different circumstances, he would have probably done it. But now he was handcuffed, shivering with cold, and dizzy from the heavy blow he had received. Moreover, he had a knife to his throat. He wasn’t used to the feeling of helplessness, at least not physical. Not being able to fight back, or at least defend himself made him feel overpowered. That’s why he just froze, trying not to provoke the attacker so he would put the knife away from his throat. 

“Don’t move”. 

The man tore up the sleeve of Kelly’s shirt, baring his arm. He then wrapped something around his upper arm. A tourniquet.

“Fuck!” The blonde shouted and started to struggle, but then he felt a sharp ridge of the knife press his skin right under his jaw so hard that he felt a warm substance weeping down his throat and neck. He clenched his teeth no to let a cry out.

“Don’t move”, the man deadpanned. “Why can’t you make things easier for once for fuck’s sake? I’m gonna do it anyway so don’t make me hurt you even more.” 

Kells clenched his teeth even more tightly.

“Straighten your right arm, I know it’s uncomfortable when you’re handcuffed, but I won’t uncuff you anyway, so just try... That’s it”, the man smirked when he saw Kelly follow his instructions obediently. “Good boy. Now, don’t struggle or I kill you by accident”.

It hurt when the attacker sank the needle under his skin. Kells didn’t expect the man to be gentle at all, but he never assumed that an injection would cause so much pain. Especially, since he was used to both pain and injections. When he thought the pain would ease, a new wave hit him and he moaned. It burned like hell.

“Why?” It was everything he could stutter at this moment, between moans of pain and writhing. 

“Why”? The man sighed, mimicking the blonde. “It's obvious. For the money”. He gave Kells’ cheek a stroke. “The right question should be ”Why me”?

The drug had already started to find its place in the blood system, and the blonde felt light as if he was floating in the air. 

“Why”... his words sounded like a whisper, “me”... 

“Because somebody really wanted to see you break”. 

The man wanted to stand up and leave, but he hesitated for a moment. 

“There are so many people who are fucked up in their heads”, he said. “They need entertainment, just as we all do. But ordinary horror movies ain't enough for them. They need something more, something real. And we, since we are fucked up in the head too, we give them the form of entertainment they crave so much. I'm sorry for you, I really am. You see, I'm a big fan of your music. But I can't quit just because I have some feeling towards the person we use. I'm too deep in this shit to just quit. I hope you understand”.

But these words didn’t reach Kells ‘cause he already tripped out.

And he wouldn't understand anyway.

Next hours brought him numbness that later turned into pain. He remembered vaguely what they were doing to him and what they were saying. He remembered vaguely their voices and the way light flashed when they glared him with a torch. He didn’t feel much when he was being hit in the face multiple times or when they spilt hot water on his head and shoulders. He knew that he was sat on a chair or something, because sometimes he was falling off it and they had to hold him. They left from time to time; then he just lay on the cold floor, the world upending in his dizzy head. Was he conscious enough, he would pray for it to end, in any way possible, but his mind was afloat and he was indifferent. 

Minutes went by and none of the attackers came. The cold was sobering him up, and as he came to, the pain raised its head; the burnt skin on his head and cigarette burns on his neck started to sting, dull ache spread on his bruised face, and a slash under his knee was throbbing with pain. They wanted to cut his tendon but lucikly were too dumb to find it. But it still hurt and he was bleeding heavily now. So as he came to, he got up and slumped his back against the wall. 

“I need to stop the bleeding”, he thought. “But… why? Why would I prolong my own suffering, when I can finish it so easily”… He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He could just stay like that, waiting till he lost enough blood to faint. Then, he wouldn’t even notice the end. It would hurt no more. It would just end, so peacefully. 

However, the moment of hesitation didn’t last long. 

“Someone is waiting for me at home.” 

He had never craved death more in his life, but the thought of his family was keeping him alive. Not without difficulty, he ripped his T-shirt and banded his leg, covering the cut wound and preventing it from bleeding. 

“I’m not gonna die here.” 

“I’m not gonna die.” 

Like a mantra, he kept telling the words to himself, first loudly, then quietly. Later, they were just an echo in his aching head.

*** 

Em was trying his best not to look at the website, but his mind was occupied with what may be happening and even if he didn’t know, his sick brain played some scenarios on its own. It took all his willpower not to open the link, not to watch the streaming video. Maybe he was wrong by acting like that, maybe he should know what was happening. But right now he was just terrified, and the feeling was as intense as ever.

“How far are we”? 

“About 40 miles”.

He sighed for the nth time today. 

What should he do? Prepare guns, probably. He’s gonna fucking kill these guys. He just hoped he wouldn’t be late. 

Then, the thought came to his mind again: Why do I care so much? He couldn’t answer this question, because he had no idea. It was a subconscious act and he had no control over it. He just cared. He’d felt a weird feeling in his stomach for the whole day, probably a neuralgia. He pulled the sleeves of his grey sweatshirt down his arms and covered his hands. Then he just held the end of the sleeves in his fingers and started to pinch his lip, looking out of the window. He hated feeling so helpless. 

And then, he saw something at the end of the road. The object was slowly getting bigger and more clear. A gridlock.  
Because when you’re in a hurry, the best thing that can happen to you is, obviously, a traffic jam on a highway entrance. 

Em cursed thin-lipped. The drive was going to take them more time than he previously thought. And time was something they didn’t have in plenty.

***

“Not gonna die”…

The already cold and dark room was slowly becoming more dreary as his spirits were slowly sinking. 

“Not gonna die”… He felt like the mantra didn’t work anymore; maybe because he didn’t speak it out loud. But how could he when all his strength had left him?  
The pain was pervasive and so intense that it made him groan through clenched teeth. Not having anything to drink since morning, he was feeling thirsty. He writhed with pain.

Does anybody know where he is? Does anybody know he’s in danger? He told everyone not to bother him because he needs some time off in order to focus on his music. They weren’t going to call him, they weren’t going to find that he’d been kidnapped. They weren’t going to find him. No one was going to help him. He was going to die here and no one would ever find his body. 

He started to lose his hope. 

An hour or two passed when he heard someone unlock the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'll upload a new chapter asap if you liked this one. Let me know <3


End file.
